Strawberry Avalanche (Please Crash Over Me)
by snowin' you
Summary: A Destiel one-shot pointless fluff involving sick!Cas, nurse!Dean and a lot of strawberries. Warnings inside.


**Title:** Strawberry Avalanche (Please Crash Over Me)

**Author:** snowin' you

**Beta:** Byrneshadow

**Rating:** T

**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel

**Spoilers:** None

**Warnings:** Brief non-graphic nudity, Mild languages, References to off-screen M/M sex, Multiple conversations about bowel movements

**Word Count:** 4,266

**Summary:** A Destiel one-shot PWP involving sick!Cas, nurse!Dean and a lot of strawberries. Mindless fluff.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Supernatural, it'd be soppy, not angsty.

**A/N:** Title taken from a song by Owl City. Some paragraphs are paraphrases from the song lyrics. No copyright infringement intended.

~:~:~

Castiel loves fresh fruits. He is more than glad that now, if he was asked what kind of food he liked, he could reply fruits – preferably fresh from the trees. They manifest the perfection of God's handiwork: from sweet, ripe golden mangoes to sour citrus and juicy pears. What he likes most, however, are tiny, heart-shaped strawberries.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise when suddenly Castiel appears in a dull motel room the Winchesters are in, arms cradling a large basket full of plump, bleeding red strawberries.

"Whoa, Cas, what are those?" Dean asks with a grimacing frown instead of a delighted smile.

"Strawberries," Castiel replies flatly, as if nothing could be more obvious. His blue eyes shine brightly as always.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean bites. "What are they doing here?"

"They are for you and Sam to eat," the angel replies, turning slightly to the younger Winchester, who curves his lips into a polite smile. "I picked them myself, from farms around the world. These big ones," Cas said, picking up a few large, beet-red, lush-looking ones, "are from Japan. They are so sweet their tastes will linger in your mouth for hours."

Dean's tongue darts out to lick his lips instinctively. Just by hearing what Cas says, he can hardly wait to taste it – not in his mouth, of course.

"Dude, that's stealing," Sam interrupts and Dean rolls his eyes. Leave it to his Big Foot brother to destroy his fantasies.

"No," the angel counters instantly. "I paid for it. I left money in their kitchens."

Dean feels his head ache. He doesn't even have to ask whose money it was Cas used to pay for the fruit.

"Might as well eat it," Dean mutters, reaching out to pick one up.

"Dean, wait!" Cas and Sam cry at the same time. Dean's hand freezes mid-air. He looks between the two guys, waiting for an explanation.

"I think we should wash them first," Sam starts.

Cas nods in agreement. "Even though I picked them from organic farms, you wouldn't want to eat them." Seeing how both Dean and Sam now turn to him with questioning looks, he further explains, "if you can see the dirt on them."

Sam clears his throat and Dean swallows down a snorted "Right", putting down the fruit. Then Sam takes the basket and leads Castiel to the bathroom.

As soon as Dean hears water running and Sam teaching Cas how to wash strawberries, he smirks. "Friggin' wives," he says to himself, amused. As soon as he realizes what he just said, his face turns crimson. He has never been more grateful no one is around.

After the berries are clean, they start eating. Dean refuses at first, which earns him a warned "Dean" from Sam. When he looks up, Sam glares and nudges his head discreetly towards Cas. Dean's eyes follow Sam's direction and lands on a hurtful-looking, pouting puppy. He swears he hears a brick wall crumbling somewhere and picks up the most luscious-looking one to eat.

But there is so much rabbit food a warrior like him can take, so he ends up eating only ten, which is as many as satisfactory to Cas. Then he stops, watching his brother and his angel enjoy the luscious delight. After a while, Sam excuses himself, saying he doesn't want to see any more strawberries again in his lifetime, leaving Cas finishing up more than half of the basket. Dean watches as the angel takes the berries in, one by one; his lips, now juicy and red, curve around the scarlet fruit and its tiny yellow seeds on the skin; his white teeth (now turning pinkish) bite on the soft flesh, squeezing out enticing juice.

Dean shifts awkwardly after he realizes how much he craves a taste of strawberry-flavored lips of an angel.

~:~:~

The two Winchesters jump from their seats when suddenly the trench coated angel appears, leaning heavily on the small table they were sitting, one hand clutching at his stomach.

"Cas, you alright?" Dean asks, placing one hand worriedly on the angel's hunched shoulder. Sam's hand rests on the other side.

"Dean, help me!" Cas groans in pain. "My bowels are in immense pain. It feels like someone is twisting it."

"What kind of demon did you run into? Can't you mojo it away?" Dean asks in a panic voice. If Cas can't cure himself from the curse, they might be dealing with one friggin' powerful big bad God-forsaken creature.

"Was it a witch?" Sam chirps in. Dean knows Sam's already listed in his head the books he needs to look up for a counter-spell.

Cas simply shakes his head. A fit of shuddering is evident, and Cas falls forward to catch Dean with both hands, his body becoming sweaty. He looks like he is on a verge of a breakdown. "My ass is feeling funny too," he whines.

Before Dean can come up with naughty images at the mention of the gorgeous ass, Cas farts, or sort of. Both the hunters stiffen at the loud shitting sound. A split second later, a very foul smell hits their noses. Sam tries his best to hide his cringe, but Dean is not so subtle. He wrinkles his nose and covers it with his fingers. Another hand points angrily towards the restroom.

"Cas, toilet!" He orders, but when the angel doesn't move, he adds, "Stat!"

Cas startles and quickly retreats to the bathroom.

Dean walks over to open the door and waves out some air. "Friggin' angels," he cusses.

"Give him a break, Dean," Sam says grimly. "He probably ate too many strawberries last night."

"You think?" Dean snorts loudly. He then returns to his chair and resumes his work. Sam follows soon after.

Ten minutes pass and Cas still hasn't come out of the bathroom.

"Dean," Sam calls, "I think you should check on him."

"No," Dean growls. "You two bunnies started this. You go clean up his mess."

Sam snorts. "I can do that, but you sure you want me to clean up his ass?"

Dean immediately gets up. He shouts back at Sam on his way to the toilet, "I told you to clean up his mess, not his ass, bitch!"

Sam chuckles as he replies quietly, "Jerk."

Dean knocks on the bathroom door. "Cas, you alright in there?"

Silence.

Dean knocks again. "Cas! Unlock the door for me!"

The silence continues.

Dean is now practically banging on the door, yelling, "Cas! I swear to God—"

There is a click at the lock and the door is slowly ajar.

Dean pushes the door opens and walks in. He didn't expect to see what he did.

Cas is sitting on his heels on the floor in front of the bathtub, besides the toilet, arms wrapping around his knees. His eyes are red and swollen. Tears have yet to dry from his face. The stink is still there, but the pang of guilt hits Dean even harder.

Dean closes the door behind him and sits down facing the heap of mess formerly known as his angel.

"Hey now," Dean shushes him. "Why are you crying?"

"This is really embarrassing," Cas says, rocking back and forth slightly on his heels. Tears start rolling down his cheeks again. "I can't make it go away. I don't know what to do."

Dean gulps. "What you have is very normal, Cas." He tries to calm the nerve-wracked angel down. "There is nothing to be ashamed of."

The angel wipes tears from his cheeks. "But you shooed me into the toilet!" he whimpers.

Dean feels like hugging his cutie angel, so he does. He wraps his arms around Cas' shoulders, one hand stroking the back of his head.

"I didn't shoo you away, Cas," the hunter comforts him gently. "What you got, you need to shit it down the toilet."

Cas remains still so Dean pulls himself back. "Did you...?" he asks, vaguely gesturing to the toilet seat.

Castiel keeps his gaze down, shaking his head.

Dean mentally rolls his eyes. If all the crap didn't go down the toilet, he does _not_ want to think of where they are now.

He collects himself. "Alright," he said. "Does your stomach still hurt?"

Cas nods, his gaze still locking at the tiles on the floor.

"Okay, if you feel the urge to poo again, just let it down the toilet and flush it, 'kay?"

Cas nods.

"Good, now let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Dean waits until Cas nods again, then he gets up, pulling Cas along with him. He removes the trench coat, the suit jacket and the tie from the angel. He pauses, though, when he starts working on the shirt buttons.

"I think we need to salt and burn the rest of your clothes," Dean says. Cas furrows his brows. "Don't worry. I'll get you new ones," Dean continues. "Can you remove the rest of your clothes and toss them into the bin, then get in the shower and clean yourself up? I taught you how to do that, right?"

Cas reluctantly nods.

"Good," Dean says, picking up Cas' coats and tie and heads for the door. "I'll have Sam get you something to help with your stomach." When Cas looks at him with that worried look in his eyes, he adds, "I'll be right back."

Dean leaves the toilet and throws the coats and everything next to his duffel bag. He then rummages around his bag, looking for a clean shirt and a clean pair of sweatpants.

"How is he doing?" Sam asks from across the room.

"Not good," Dean replies, shaking his head. "Hey, Sammy, you think you can go get him some ORS and maybe something for his pain too?"

Sam gets up readily. "Must be tough on him, having to deal with human diseases like that," he comments as he starts picking up car keys and his wallet.

"Yea," Dean replies and Sam heads out the door. He walks back to the bathroom with clean clothes in one hand, relieved to hear water running and to see the shower curtain closed.

"You good in there?" Dean asks over the sound of running water.

Instead of a reply, Cas asks, "When are you going to join me, Dean?"

Dean pauses, mouth agape. Good thing Sam was already out of the room. "I don't need a shower, Cas," he replies nervously, setting the clothes on dry surface of the sink.

Cas suddenly pushes the curtain open, revealing his naked body under the spray of water. Dean's breath hitches at the sight.

"But I've never taken a shower alone before," the angel says, his voice starting to tremble. "I don't know how to shower without you."

Dean feels his face burn to the tips of his ears, as well as a dangerous twitch in his groin at the angel's words. Sam is so not going to hear this.

"Alright, you bossy angel," Dean retorts, trying his best to hide the hoarse in his voice. He moves closer and removes the hand-held shower from its hinge. "Sit down," he orders, and Castiel complies happily. Dean crouches down next to him, outside the bathtub. "If you get me wet, you're on your own. Capiche?"

Castiel is grinning too happily for Dean's liking. "Yes, I capiche," he replies.

So Dean washes and soaps up the angel, trying not to focus too much on the slick skin under his palm. Good thing the water washed away most of the feces so there isn't much left that Dean has to deal with. As he orders the angel to lift up his arms or his hips so he can run water through them, he couldn't help a chuckle at how right he was when he said Cas was nothing but a baby in a trench coat without his mojo.

"Why are you laughing?" Cas asks with that tilt of his head and wide innocent eyes, which only widens the smile on Dean's face.

"You're such a baby," he replies fondly, ruffling a wet hand through Cas' messy dark hair.

"I'm not a baby!" Cas pouts, both wet hands trying to comb his matted hair down, making it more wet and stick to his forehead.

Dean laughs. "Yes, you are," he says, inching closer. He wrinkles his nose and brushes it against the angel's. "You're my baby angel."

Castiel blushes very deep red, which Dean is sure mirrors the color on his face right now.

"Alright," Dean breaks the awkward silence. He reaches up to turn off the water, "Time to dry up."

He gets up and grabs a dry towel from the rack. Castiel follows suit and Dean dries him up and dresses him in clean clothes.

"You should get some rest, Cas," Dean says as he dries the angel's hair with the towel. "You look really wasted."

Cas nods tiredly and walks limply towards the bed. Dean's eyes follows, and he's trying his best to swallow the drool he's making over the tousled mop on Cas' head, the slim but toned body in clothes one size too big (not to mention they are _his_ clothes), and the curves of his ass that Dean knows is bare and naked against the pants' soft cotton wool.

~:~:~

By the time Sam returns, Cas is sleeping peacefully on Dean's bed. Sam keeps his voice down as he approaches the table Dean is working on, and places his shopping bags down.

"How is he doing?" he asks.

Dean shrugs. "I don't know. This is kinda new for us, Sam," Dean replies, looking towards the angel, now lying asleep on his bed, breathing out softly and evenly.

"Yea," Sam snorts, looking also at the helpless angel, "guess that makes three of us."

With Cas now occupying his bed, Dean thinks he may need to reverse the role and watch the angel sleep tonight. Not that he mind sharing the bed, but it would be very awkward for Sam.

"Look," Sam continues. "I bought dinner for you. Not sure if you can eat, though," he says, showing him a doggy bag. "This one's for Cas. You know what to do with it," he says, holding up another bag. "I will get myself another room."

"It's not necessary," Dean protests.

Sam shakes his head slightly. "Let the guy sleep, Dean," he says. "This couch is too small, even for you."

Dean looks at the couch and cringes, thinking how anyone could sleep on it. "Thanks, Sammy," he finally says.

Sam nods and grabs his duffel bag. After he finishes throwing all his things in, he leaves the room.

Castiel groans from his bed and rushes into the toilet. Dean watches with a worried heart. He grabs the bag Sam had for Cas, and rolls his eyes when he pulls out a bottle of strawberry-flavored Pedialyte.

_Really, Sammy?_

When Cas comes out of the toilet, he is barely able to walk on his own, one hand supporting himself at the wall while the other clutching over his stomach.

Dean rushes to his side, holding him up. "You okay, Cas?"

Cas shakes his head, his eyes brimming with tears. Dean leads him to the bed and sits him down. He then rushes to grab the bottle of the rehydration fluid and kneels in front of him.

"Here." Dean hands him the bottle. "Drink this."

Cas looks at the red liquid and plastic bottle skeptically. He then takes a sip and stops. "It hurts," he says, clutching tighter at his stomach.

"I know," Dean says, putting his hand over Cas' stomach. "Just hang in there. It'll help you get better."

Cas removes his hand and places it over Dean's, so Dean's hand is now between his palm and his stomach. He clutches at it tightly as he takes a few more gulps. Then he stops, wincing painfully. "It tastes awful," he says, putting the bottle down.

"It's strawberry flavor!" Dean wails.

"It doesn't taste like strawberry!" Cas glowers.

Cas has a point, Dean has to admit. As far as he can recall from his childhood, these things never taste like what they say. But if the angel doesn't get any better soon, he might have to take him to the hospital. That would be _very_ awkward, taking an angel to a hospital – not that anyone would know he isn't human, anyway.

So Dean resorts to coaxing. "If you finish this," Dean says, putting on his best seductive face, "I'll give you a kiss."

Contrary to what he expected, Cas' expression falls. He looks like he is a bare thread away from crying. "You won't kiss me if I don't?" he asks, his voice crackling so bad Dean feels a pang of hurt in his chest.

Dean strokes Cas' hair soothingly. "No, no, of course not," he says, leaning for a chaste kiss. Cas tastes like, well, strawberry-flavor electrolyte drink.

He has to come up with a better persuasion. "How about," Dean trails off, debating whether it is a good idea to finish the sentence, "I sing for you?"

Cas' eyes light up instantly. Dean smiles, but inwardly punches himself. There's _nothing_ he wouldn't do for Cas; singing undoubtedly has to be one of them.

"Really?" the angel asks, again, too eager for Dean's liking. As soon as Dean nods, Cas swallows the drink down in quick gulps.

"Whoa, slow down," Dean says, pulling the bottle away from the angel's lips. Cas lunches forward, not wanting to let go of it. "Drink slowly, or my offer is invalid," Dean commands. At this rate it would do him more harm than good, but there's no point explaining as Cas won't be listening anyway.

So Cas slowly drinks his drink; his eyes keep gazing at Dean the whole time. Once he finishes, he hands the empty bottle to Dean, and lies down on the bed, leaving a space for Dean.

Dean places the empty bottle on the bedside table and climbs onto bed. He settles next to Cas, leaning on his elbow over the pillow. Cas scoots closer and leans his forehead against Dean's chest. Dean drapes one leg over Cas' hips, locking him in place; one hand strokes the back of his head soothingly.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asks, bending down to kiss the top of Cas' head.

"Weak," Cas mumbles over the fabric of Dean's dark blue T-shirt.

The angel's hot breath sends a shudder through Dean's body. He thinks of hundred things he wants to do with his angel, adding a mental note to let Cas top him for a while.

"Dean?" Cas says, looking up at Dean. "The song?"

"Oh, right," Dean says with a smile, sliding himself down so now he is face-to-face with the angel. He is glad to know Cas wants to hear him sing this much.

He started on the first line of "Hey, Jude" when Cas stops him.

"Not this song," he says.

Dean frowns at Cas. If not this song, then what—

He gapes as realization hits him. Since Cas heard that song the first time in a convenient store, he never stops listening (and most of the time, singing) to it. He had Sam downloaded it on his iPod, and much to Dean's dismay, played it every time they ride alone in the Impala.

(At least, he refrains from doing so when Sam is around. For that much, Dean is grateful. Sam doesn't need to know he breaks his own rule for some angel he doesn't have the heart to say no to.)

"No way I'm going to sing that shit!" Dean blurts before he could stop himself. Cas looks more dejected, if that is even possible. Dean knows for a fact that kicking a puppy doesn't make him feel this guilty.

"It's not shit and you know it," Cas pouts, turning away from Dean.

"Alright, alright," he says, trying to roll him back. "You can't turn your back on me while I sing for you."

Cas rolls back eagerly, grinning into Dean's face that is inches away from him.

Dean can't help grinning back. "After all this shit, you still want me to sing this shit?" Dean jokes one more time, grinning wider at how cocky it sounds.

"Dean," Cas warns with a glare.

"Alright, jeez!" Dean whines before taking a deep breath. Clearing his throat, he starts the first line of the song he now knows by heart.

It is a song about a dreamland where a glass blade cut open a moon beam and 'mountains of fruit tumbled out'. No wonder Castiel loves this song so much: a song so pure and blissful like the naïve angel. As if on cue, Cas sings along with adorable giggles when Dean hits the refrain: "A strawberry avalanche crash over me".

Dean wouldn't admit how happy he is each time he sings this song along with Cas smiling happily next to him. It's as if he could _actually_ see both of them lying together in a sleeping bag in some back yard, laughing hysterically when they discovered that they were buried beneath a 'fruity landslide', with Cas screaming, 'A strawberry avalanche crash over me!"

If Cas likes the song, then he would sing (or try to sing) harmoniously to Cas' beautiful sound. He feels as if the clouds above have turned pinkish as they are coated with strawberries. When Cas' stares deep into his eyes, chanting the last line, "please crash over me," as if it was only for him to hear, Dean couldn't help but lands himself on Cas, straddling his lap and crashing his lips over his. Cas accepts it eagerly, taking in Dean's tongue as it wipes around the inside of his mouth. Dean pants hard when he breaks for air.

"Cas," he says, still trying to catch his breath. "You taste like strawberry."

"Well," Cas trails off with _that_ wicked, lopsided smile he has on him sometimes. "You said you'd like a taste of strawberry-flavored lips of an angel."

"I didn't—" Dean refuses confusedly. He is pretty sure he didn't say that, not out loud anyway. "How could you—" Then how did Cas know? How come he tastes like strawberry when he didn't have any today?

"Oh you!" Dean cries as he realizes what just happened. "You sneaky bastard! You didn't lose your mojo, did you?"

Cas has the decency to look sheepish as he shakes his head.

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean groans. "Do you know how much you make me worry?"

"I do now," Cas says apologetically. "I'm sorry. I just like being pampered by you."

Dean turns his face away from the angel, faking an angry huff.

Cas practically begs Dean to turn back to him. "But the pain is real, Dean," he says, trying to sound as pitiful as he can, "I didn't mojo it away."

"Aw, my poor baby," Dean says, stoking Cas' hair with a dramatic painful look on his face. He sure wishes he was immunized against some angels of the nerd kind. Then Dean yanks slightly at his hair, exposing wider angle on the angel's neck. "You know you're not getting away with this, don't you?" Dean says over the skin of his neck as he nibbles along the vein, making Cas squirm.

"Just so you know, Dean," Cas says, mewing between his words as he cranes his neck to give Dean more access, "the excrement is also real, so it might be a good idea to let me top you for a while."

Dean's face turns beet red. "Don't you think you can get away just because you can top me, angel." Dean threatens by pulling a little at Cas' earlobe with his teeth, making the angel shudder. Then he bites into Cas' skin, hard enough to leave bruises but not hard enough to break. When Dean licks over the bruise, he tastes fresh strawberries: sweet and luscious with a slightest tint of sour. He pulls back with a frown, thinking he might be hallucinating. Then he tries licking at Cas' collarbone and he can still taste the juicy fruit. Hell, he can even _smell_ it. The same goes with his chin, his jaw, his neck, his shoulders; Dean thinks his mind is reeling like crazy. When he wonders if every part of Cas taste like strawberries, meaning every single part – inside and out – and if he could swallow it down his throat, he catches a mischievous glimpse in Cas' eyes, and he knows he had fallen for the naughty angel again.

"Oh," Dean says with a smug grin, "the war is on, baby."

~:~:~


End file.
